We Make Sense
by Fify4Scandal
Summary: Can Olivia and Fitz find their way back to each other? Will circumstances and people let them live out their epic love story? * Characters in this story belong to Shonda and ABC*


We Make Sense

It had been four months. Olivia sat at the edge of the ocean on a tiny peaceful island. There were palm trees, a beautiful azure ocean, and a lovely log cabin with a concrete white washed patio. Olivia lay on an outstretched deck chair wearing her Prada sun glasses, a glass of an expensive red wine at her side. It was a peaceful place. She wished that peace transferred into her mind. She had left DC behind. It was in her past. Her crazy parents were in her past and OPA would continue to function without her. There was something else that was on her mind and it wasn't the person she was on the island with. It was someone else. His face flashed before her like a ghost in the night. His voice ran through her veins giving her goose bumps even though the noon day sun was ablaze. She wondered how he was, what he was doing. She wondered if he thought of her. She wanted him to miss her but that was selfish, wasn't it? It was wrong for her to want him to pine after her because she's the one that left him. He should forget about her. Bury any memory of her into the deepest recesses of his mind. Tears stung her eyes and she thanked God for the person who designed shades. They hid her eyes so the man she was with, Jake, couldn't tell what she really felt or thought. He would never understand the longing in her heart. Fitz, she missed him so much it hurt. She thought the distance would be good. Like it would make it easier to forget him. But she was worse off. She wondered if he was worse off without her. No, he had to be happy, she did this for him. To save him, to save his life and to save him from herself. But then the longing, it just wouldn't go away.

Jake came out carrying some more drinks. He was a welcome distraction at the start but now, the emptiness was getting louder. She didn't know how long she could hold on to the dream of being out in the sun with him. It was starting to burn uncomfortably. He sat at her side and pulled her leg over his, giving him access to her most private of parts, his fingers going to work. It was a distraction but it wasn't real. It was the wrong hands, the wrong face, the wrong body and the wrong eyes looking into hers. This kind of normal was just not enough for her. She realised it right then. Actually she had realised it once before when Edison declared his desire for a future with her. This, that she was doing with Jake was just not enough. He was adequate for her physical needs but even then he wasn't enough. She wanted Fitz, her body wanted Fitz, her heart wanted Fitz. She simply needed Fitz. But he was a thing of the past and she wasn't going back to DC. She had no reason to. So like a prison, she was stuck on the beautiful island with Jake.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Fitz had been drinking for most of the day. It was one of the rare times the president had a day off. He had gone to the oval to sign a few papers and go through some briefs. That's what was classed as a day off. He sat at the balcony of the residence looking out in the direction of the monuments. He wondered if past presidents had ever faced the personal dilemmas that he had faced. He laughed to himself and decided yes, they definitely would have had some hard times. But none of them had lost a son. He had taken the job to help the nation. He didn't think it would be such a nightmare. He hadn't realised how everyone would be out for his blood. He didn't realise how the people of the nation were so clueless and that what they voted for wasn't exactly what they were getting. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch there. The sun gently kissed his face. It felt good. But only for a fleeting moment. Inside this big building that was his home and office was his wife who walked around in her night gown. Mellie had fallen off the edge and he didn't know how long he could keep the hope alive for them. He had tried to be a good husband but they were too far gone down multiple roads of bitterness. They were drowning as a couple. They were completely messed up as individuals. The country was being led by a zombie. He was walking, he was alive but there was no life in him. The loss of his son tore him to pieces. But how does a president grieve. He bucks up, puts on an amour of strength, picks up his weapons and leads the charge. No matter if he feels broken. No matter if he can barely function. No matter if his heart is dead. He has to keep going, for the sake of the people. Being the president was a high price to pay. Being the president meant someone took his heart and left with it. She didn't say goodbye. Was she gone or was she missing? Was she alive, was she dead? It had kept him awake on numerous nights. Where was she? Why didn't she contact him? He had cried to himself, by himself. He couldn't let anyone see his tears. He was the president. He sat there on this day. Guzzling his scotch into the depths of the night, trying to forget Olivia Pope who seemed to be emblazoned onto his heart, mind and soul. It was too much. Olivia and Gerry. Then everything seems to fall apart. Suddenly he didn't want to handle it, he wanted to sleep and not wake up. There sat a bottles of pills. Mellies prescriptions. There , in the bathroom, was a bottle for sleeping pills. It was perfect. He could just sleep and forget about it all. He popped two in his mouth and drank them down, then another two, and another, and another. There in the bathroom of the White House residence, the president was done hoping, done trying, done with doing the right thing. He was done. At some point he stopped counting. He just knew the bottle was empty. He slouched onto the floor as drowsiness took over. His scotch in his hand. "Goodbye Olivia. I still love you, I'm sorry Cy. I'm sorry mum, I wish I made you proud. It's gonna be ok Mellie. I'll be with you soon Gerry, and we'll be ok". Then his eyes closed and it was over.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Cyrus!"

"Cyrus!"

"Mellie, it's 2am, what is it now?"

I know what time it is. It's Fitz, I think...I think he's dead".

"WHAT...?"

"Cyrus, get over hear NOW", Mellie was leaning over Fitz. He was lifeless on the bathroom floor. One of her bottles lay on the floor, empty. A glass of scotch lay tipped over on the floor. There was puke at the side of his face on the floor.

"You son of a bitch, you aren't leaving me to handle this mess on my own, Fitz get up". Mellie was hysterical. Life had dealt her lemons. She had been raped, she had lost a son. Her husband was irrevocably in love with another woman. Yes, she once tried it herself but to see Fitz lying on the floor, a dead weight, all life gone from him was something she was not prepared for. He was supposed to be the strong one. The one who held his family together. But then again, how much did she know him anymore? Did she know his strengths and weaknesses anymore? Could she answer those intimate questions about him? The week after their son died they had made love. Touching each other for the first time in months or even a year. He had felt foreign. It was him. His body, but it wasn't the him she knew even when they were at their happiest. She had to admit he was Olivia's now. He kissed her differently, he touched her differently. He moved differently. It was another man in her husband's body. Olivia knew him. She could probably name all his strengths and weaknesses and everything intimate about him. Olivia pope. She was the reason he was in this state. The coward. She always did this. When things got too tough she ran away. All the time. Then she was left to deal with a broken Fitz. Now here she was again. Cleaning up Olivia's mess. This time things had gone too far. And if she saw Olivia Pope again she would give he a piece of her mind.

The doctor had come in and induced Fitz to throw up some more. He was alive, he would live. Mellie cleaned up the mess. They put him in his bedroom where a makeshift hospital room was quickly set up. Being the president sometimes meant you couldn't even be treated like a regular patient. This kind of thing would be kept a secret. No one wants a president who tries to end his life. His stomach was pumped, he was stuck with IV fluids, blood tests were done and scans taken. He would live. Once it was settled that his condition would get better, Cyrus stuck them both in marine one together with the doctor, his team and his medical supplies and sent them to Camp David. The press would be made to believe that the first couple were taking a much needed break especially for parents who had just lost a child. Red would have to do a good job at the press conference.


End file.
